


Words Like Knives

by starlightfury



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightfury/pseuds/starlightfury
Summary: Feyre and Rhys get into an argument, but it gets tense and some harsh things are said





	Words Like Knives

Feyre couldn’t remember the last time Rhysand’s words had stung so much, especially after such a minor disagreement. Rhys had freaked out when Feyre went out for a bit to get some fresh air and had blocked off her mind to keep it clear, resulting in her mate being unable to reach her. It was stupid, really, that they’d been fighting at all, but anger had flared and they both ended up hurt.

When she had returned, Rhys was clearly irritated, the effect of it amplified by the bond. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

Feyre scowled at him. “Taking a walk.”

“You can’t go off without warning and close yourself off like that!”

“Oh, so you need to know where I am at all times?” This struck a nerve in her, recalling unpleasant memories.

“When you do things like that, I worry! Do you have any respect for that at all?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “This has nothing to do with my respect for you.”

“Really? None at all? You don’t think you should at least have the decency to let me know where you’ll be?” Rhys snapped.

“You were busy! Pardon me for not interrupting.”

“It’s not like you have to be in front of me to talk to me.” His irritation was only growing. “It’s as simple as a quick thought. Instead you blocked me out”

“I needed to clear my head. I was trying to paint, and my thoughts were distracting me. I wanted to limit disruptions.”

Rhys laughed callously. “So I’m just a disruption?”

Feyre raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? Why are you so worked up about this?”

“What if something happened to you and I didn’t know where you were?”

“But nothing _did_ , Rhys.”

“This time, yes, but the one time something does happen to you will be the one time I truly have no idea where you went. You can’t just disappear like that, you have to tell me!"

“Oh, great, so you’re putting me on a leash.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to mind when Tamlin did it.” Feyre couldn’t stop the hurt flooding her, followed by fury. Rhys froze, his face clouded, and opened his mouth to say something. “Don’t,” Feyre said coldly and turned on her heel to leave, shuttering her mind from him.

She shut herself in their bedroom and picked up her paints. With each brushstroke, the tangle of emotions within her slowly unraveled. Her hand moved subconsciously, as if it had a mind of its own.

Some time later, there was a knock at the door. “Feyre,” Rhys said softly from the other side. “Can I come in?”

She lowered the walls around her mind just a bit, giving him indication that she was willing to talk. He opened the door carefully and Feyre turned to face him. He stopped, shoulders sagging slightly, when he saw the canvas. Shame and guilt rippled through the small connection she allowed. All the fight had drained out of him. Feyre looked back at her work and understood why he felt guilty. She’d painted the Spring Court, but it looked wrong. The flowers were blood-red, the grass wilted and dead, the sky gray as ash. It reflected her feelings about her experiences in Spring, brought to the surface by Rhysand’s harsh words.

"I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what got into me. I’m just so… dealing with the Court of Nightmares makes me irritable and stressed. Not that that’s any excuse, but… none of this was about you.”

“I know,” Feyre said, and she did. She hated how they treated Rhys in the Hewn City, and she knew how much it also bothered him.

"The things they say about you… sometimes I just get caught up in how angry it makes me. But it’s not fair of me to take it out on you.”

Feyre stepped toward him and placed her hand on his cheek. “I know,” she said again, softly.

His eyes met hers, soft with emotion. “Let me make it up to you?”

Feyre raised a brow. “How so?”

A wicked grin lit up his handsome face. “I have a few ideas.”


End file.
